Since my father's death, I've noticed a subtle shift in the way I intersect with desire.
Prior to his passing, I can say with good assurance that my desire was very clear, strong, directed. I had (still have) good partners, and we enjoyed many an hour or three having good sex of all flavors. There was kink, vanilla and a lot in between. I was rarely one to pass on the chance to partake, and I loved it in a huge variety of places. I never really questioned that. Part of it was my celebration of my body, my willingness and desire to give of myself, to see others experience pleasure.
The shift since perhaps last October has been odd. I still have desire, and while I can't say it is quenched much, the "direction" (vector?) has changed. I still feel a passion for my partners, I still enjoy the sharing, but it has waned a lot in the intervening months. I'm not at all sure why, just that the vector is somehow a mixture of self-reflection brought on, I guess, by the whole process of death and dying and especially when you are left an orphan, and by the inner turmoil brought on by my former spouse (who has taken a decidedly greedy turn).
One other side effect here is that a lot of the issues around jealousy, especially around one partner in particular, have somehow gently wafted away. At times, I almost feel ambivalent towards her, although when we reconnect, which is increasingly rare, I melt back into that wonderful place of a deep love for her. But at other times, knowing she has chosen to spend most of her time with someone else, I am now largely "meh" about that, at times genuinely encouraging her (compersion? me?) to enjoy it, trying, when needed or asked, to be supportive of the foibles and challenges she faces with her other relationships. This is good, but not planned.
I'm left at this point often wondering if I even want to share my desire with others at all. Heading to WF, I wonder about this a lot. So much of push there is about "getting it" and for me, now, I simply don't seem to want it.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Alone time
Since my dad died, I've changed a lot. One thing that shifted was the time I felt I needed to spend by myself. Seems that's grown a lot. Now, I wonder.
Am I spending too much time alone?
It's not that I've cut off my two main partners, but I clearly am taking a lot of time to be with my own self. Part of that is good. I get to reflect more, think more, be more of who I am. But the downside is that I feel a bit more.... eccentric, like there's something wrong and I am not quite sure what that is.
It's funny, cuz I think now more than ever I have a need to have someone to reflect off of, to pull me up short when I am really in left field and to reinforce things when I'm not.
Challenge here is that the dark side creeps in and I have to work harder to stay that.
Am I spending too much time alone?
It's not that I've cut off my two main partners, but I clearly am taking a lot of time to be with my own self. Part of that is good. I get to reflect more, think more, be more of who I am. But the downside is that I feel a bit more.... eccentric, like there's something wrong and I am not quite sure what that is.
It's funny, cuz I think now more than ever I have a need to have someone to reflect off of, to pull me up short when I am really in left field and to reinforce things when I'm not.
Challenge here is that the dark side creeps in and I have to work harder to stay that.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Changes
Bowie said it first.
But it's true. For me, those changes have been little short of monumental since Sept 27th.
I was literally in the car driving back from summer camp when I got the call that something was significantly changed with my father. My sister said she was arriving the next morning. I stopped in and saw him on my way home. There'd been so many situations like this that I really did not expect to find much amiss. He was clearly not in a good way.
He died 10 days later.
I've reflected a lot on the experience since then. Going through death is a unique experience. There's nothing else I've ever experienced that afforded such clarity of mind.
But while that side of it was deep and has left lasting marks, the other part of it was a surprise and, in the end, is my real inheritance from him.
All my fear went away. Okay, maybe not all of it - I suppose there are still moments of anxiety about some things. But the reality of who I am, the real me, that one that had to get of this prison cell - that's the fear that's gone.
There's a new set of fears - reluctances might be a better word if it were one. But now the real me is here. I'm not afraid of that person. I am concerned? nervous? anxious? about who that person might become, might want to become. Do I do that? It feels so far past that in my life - how can I possibly make a change so fundamental to me as the person I've lived inside of for all these decades?
I've talked with several vital players in my life about this. I suspect one of them wonders why I don't take the plunge, change, metamorphose into that other. I'm not entirely sure. Part of me seeks to do just that, but the other aspects of me that I cherish - the drive, the dick, the body I have now - is reluctant to harbor that degree of change, of loss. I've considered cosmetic alternatives - that's a possibility,but I'd need to really consider the consequences. Could I live out that way? Do I want to live out that way?
The journey I'm on now is destined to take me to a forboding place. I know I must do that first.
Then. We shall see.
But it's true. For me, those changes have been little short of monumental since Sept 27th.
I was literally in the car driving back from summer camp when I got the call that something was significantly changed with my father. My sister said she was arriving the next morning. I stopped in and saw him on my way home. There'd been so many situations like this that I really did not expect to find much amiss. He was clearly not in a good way.
He died 10 days later.
I've reflected a lot on the experience since then. Going through death is a unique experience. There's nothing else I've ever experienced that afforded such clarity of mind.
But while that side of it was deep and has left lasting marks, the other part of it was a surprise and, in the end, is my real inheritance from him.
All my fear went away. Okay, maybe not all of it - I suppose there are still moments of anxiety about some things. But the reality of who I am, the real me, that one that had to get of this prison cell - that's the fear that's gone.
There's a new set of fears - reluctances might be a better word if it were one. But now the real me is here. I'm not afraid of that person. I am concerned? nervous? anxious? about who that person might become, might want to become. Do I do that? It feels so far past that in my life - how can I possibly make a change so fundamental to me as the person I've lived inside of for all these decades?
I've talked with several vital players in my life about this. I suspect one of them wonders why I don't take the plunge, change, metamorphose into that other. I'm not entirely sure. Part of me seeks to do just that, but the other aspects of me that I cherish - the drive, the dick, the body I have now - is reluctant to harbor that degree of change, of loss. I've considered cosmetic alternatives - that's a possibility,but I'd need to really consider the consequences. Could I live out that way? Do I want to live out that way?
The journey I'm on now is destined to take me to a forboding place. I know I must do that first.
Then. We shall see.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
"Turn and face the strange".
Since my father's death last month, something has changed, deeply, inside me. It's not about that relationship - that was always hard, and of late, very distant.
It's more to do with the growing self-realization, the part of me that now, finally, is starting to know who I am, no longer the definition of someone else.
And with that has come an odd shift in my sex and sexuality and my desire.
Whereas before it often felt (at least it was very vague and undefined) that when, for example, I wore thigh high nylons and walked about with them, it was as though part of me was trying to broadcast a message - "get laid". Was I? I don't know. (And I mean "get laid" in the broadest, most 'meta-' way possible, not just a BDT literal meaning). So when I was noticed, it was a lot about trying to see if what I imagined their conception of the meaning behind it could be something I understood in a way that opened the door to further connecting. That was me, compromising my self, in order to get the connection, whether sexual or something else.
But now, wearing thigh high nylons is more a marker of who I know I am, deep inside. And now it is not a matter of when someone sees me they say "Hotcha hotcha" and "Let's screw" but rather, I wonder, do they see the real me, and do they really know what this means as part of who I am? Do they truly understand that part of who I am, and do they grasp that the symbols are no longer a request for something like sex, but rather now are intrinsic representations or manifestations of the true self?
It is as though the symbolic language I've incorporated into the "me" of the past 15 years has suddenly jelled, morphed, into something at once deeply intimate and strangely unfamiliar. Who IS this odd person? [I KNOW this odd person well]
And with that comes the recognition, I think, that the inner person, though highly desiring of good sex contact and such, is no longer driven to that particular edge based on how I appear, no longer reaching for that fulfillment because of someone's "definition" of "me", but instead stems from a more fundamental place, and an interest in connecting that is totally free and clear of those older, familiar identities.
The person I am, really, now, finds solace, and, I hope, true self-confidence because I AM able to simply express that inner me as I feel it, and not because I am trying so so hard to "fit" into the mold of what others have tried to make me, whether real or imagined on my part.
There is one more sub-barrier, but even that, somehow, feels a lot different. I suspect I will manage to overcome that one with considerably more ease, esp since that relationship as it was is over.
It's both scary and exhilarating.
Since my father's death last month, something has changed, deeply, inside me. It's not about that relationship - that was always hard, and of late, very distant.
It's more to do with the growing self-realization, the part of me that now, finally, is starting to know who I am, no longer the definition of someone else.
And with that has come an odd shift in my sex and sexuality and my desire.
Whereas before it often felt (at least it was very vague and undefined) that when, for example, I wore thigh high nylons and walked about with them, it was as though part of me was trying to broadcast a message - "get laid". Was I? I don't know. (And I mean "get laid" in the broadest, most 'meta-' way possible, not just a BDT literal meaning). So when I was noticed, it was a lot about trying to see if what I imagined their conception of the meaning behind it could be something I understood in a way that opened the door to further connecting. That was me, compromising my self, in order to get the connection, whether sexual or something else.
But now, wearing thigh high nylons is more a marker of who I know I am, deep inside. And now it is not a matter of when someone sees me they say "Hotcha hotcha" and "Let's screw" but rather, I wonder, do they see the real me, and do they really know what this means as part of who I am? Do they truly understand that part of who I am, and do they grasp that the symbols are no longer a request for something like sex, but rather now are intrinsic representations or manifestations of the true self?
It is as though the symbolic language I've incorporated into the "me" of the past 15 years has suddenly jelled, morphed, into something at once deeply intimate and strangely unfamiliar. Who IS this odd person? [I KNOW this odd person well]
And with that comes the recognition, I think, that the inner person, though highly desiring of good sex contact and such, is no longer driven to that particular edge based on how I appear, no longer reaching for that fulfillment because of someone's "definition" of "me", but instead stems from a more fundamental place, and an interest in connecting that is totally free and clear of those older, familiar identities.
The person I am, really, now, finds solace, and, I hope, true self-confidence because I AM able to simply express that inner me as I feel it, and not because I am trying so so hard to "fit" into the mold of what others have tried to make me, whether real or imagined on my part.
There is one more sub-barrier, but even that, somehow, feels a lot different. I suspect I will manage to overcome that one with considerably more ease, esp since that relationship as it was is over.
It's both scary and exhilarating.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Head Noise
The head noise is bad this morning. I got persuaded a long time ago that this never does stop. Meditation and other things do help, but in the end the noise is always there. It is more about what you DO about this that counts.
So at 5 a.m. I am wide awake. *I hate typing* And I start ruminating on the usual stuff.
Not all is bad and ugly,
For example, it came to me that the way to plow through the dissertation is to start with the main question, to elaborate that quite a bit, not necessarily by asking more questions, but posing it in different ways. Then, for each following chapter, restate in some form the main question. This is very effective when I consider the "Why SXM?" chapter. I could start that by asking "If I am interested in technology and how it affects / interacts with the informal economy and tourism then this place is good b/c ..." See how that works? History could start with something too - perhaps "In considering the present and how ITC and I.E. and Tourism intersect, it is useful to look at the past."
But most of it is bad and ugly.
But then the same head noise quickly degenerates into my issues around K and why the relationship isn't working too well, even though part of me knows it is working. The part I am more in tune with now has to do with this sense of having to compete for time and energy and affection. I do not like competition at all, never have, probably never will. But I feel like capturing her attention is a matter of competing for her time. Then of course this whole part spirals down into all the things I hate about myself, which I think I am at least a little better at managing now. That whole cognitive shift bit still is there, for sure, but when I am overtired, and far from home and not at my body best, it is a lot harder to try and avoid the painful parts and to stay aware of how that works.
Part of me knows with certainty that the underlying drive at 5 a.m. is due to the body factors - lack of sound sleep, uneven nutrition, too much wine, off cycle, etc.. But that's not easy to let go of when I am simply lying there wondering it all. It gets away from the rational mind really fast.
I've learned in the past that usually (but not always) simply getting up shifts it around in odd ways, and I'm left with this sense of "WTF?". But underneath that is often a funny sort of body thing - something is off kilter there and I have no easy handle on what it is and therefore even less of a chance to try and fix it.
How can one fix the head noise?
Meditation helps, but does not eliminate. I should do more, but the goals now for me are so different.
Sex is an odd escape. I often find that playing with myself, getting really hard, building the energy that way is a useful escape, but wonder: is it simply an escape? Is it a simplification of things in a way that, like so many other approaches, merely tucks it under the rug kind of thing, leaving the harshness of what it is or might be festering in the back rooms of the head?
Writing is useful at times, but I'm never really sure I can separate myself from the mechanics of it all - I'm left slightly empty by the fact that the damn interface is so limiting. Is it what I really think or feel or is it driven by the curse of whatever I happen to choose as an interface? I think at times real pen and paper wrk better this way, but not always. I lose something "in the translation" which is to say that I never quite feel I capture what is IN my head as Itry and get it out onto a page of any sort.
So at 5 a.m. I am wide awake. *I hate typing* And I start ruminating on the usual stuff.
Not all is bad and ugly,
For example, it came to me that the way to plow through the dissertation is to start with the main question, to elaborate that quite a bit, not necessarily by asking more questions, but posing it in different ways. Then, for each following chapter, restate in some form the main question. This is very effective when I consider the "Why SXM?" chapter. I could start that by asking "If I am interested in technology and how it affects / interacts with the informal economy and tourism then this place is good b/c ..." See how that works? History could start with something too - perhaps "In considering the present and how ITC and I.E. and Tourism intersect, it is useful to look at the past."
But most of it is bad and ugly.
But then the same head noise quickly degenerates into my issues around K and why the relationship isn't working too well, even though part of me knows it is working. The part I am more in tune with now has to do with this sense of having to compete for time and energy and affection. I do not like competition at all, never have, probably never will. But I feel like capturing her attention is a matter of competing for her time. Then of course this whole part spirals down into all the things I hate about myself, which I think I am at least a little better at managing now. That whole cognitive shift bit still is there, for sure, but when I am overtired, and far from home and not at my body best, it is a lot harder to try and avoid the painful parts and to stay aware of how that works.
Part of me knows with certainty that the underlying drive at 5 a.m. is due to the body factors - lack of sound sleep, uneven nutrition, too much wine, off cycle, etc.. But that's not easy to let go of when I am simply lying there wondering it all. It gets away from the rational mind really fast.
I've learned in the past that usually (but not always) simply getting up shifts it around in odd ways, and I'm left with this sense of "WTF?". But underneath that is often a funny sort of body thing - something is off kilter there and I have no easy handle on what it is and therefore even less of a chance to try and fix it.
How can one fix the head noise?
Meditation helps, but does not eliminate. I should do more, but the goals now for me are so different.
Sex is an odd escape. I often find that playing with myself, getting really hard, building the energy that way is a useful escape, but wonder: is it simply an escape? Is it a simplification of things in a way that, like so many other approaches, merely tucks it under the rug kind of thing, leaving the harshness of what it is or might be festering in the back rooms of the head?
Writing is useful at times, but I'm never really sure I can separate myself from the mechanics of it all - I'm left slightly empty by the fact that the damn interface is so limiting. Is it what I really think or feel or is it driven by the curse of whatever I happen to choose as an interface? I think at times real pen and paper wrk better this way, but not always. I lose something "in the translation" which is to say that I never quite feel I capture what is IN my head as Itry and get it out onto a page of any sort.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Challenge time
If indeed this cognitive shift is real, settled, part of me to the extent that I can ward of demons more aptly, then I wonder: is it time to challenge me ins some way? Should I venture out and find venues that I know from past experience are likely to be hard? Some possibilities:
- Visit my dad. Invariably this pushes huge ugly buttons that leave me breathless with pain at times.
- Stay up too late. I'm a lot better about this one, but I also know that past 1 or so, I move rapidly toward panic. If I chose a weekend with a safe tail, it would be a good experiment.
- Attend large social gatherings and make myself ask for something. This is impending, so it'll happen regardless.
There's also an intersting "companion" to all this: discovering and AFFIRMING what I like and don't like. I can envision this as being across fields of myself, places where, until now, I've often been reluctant to open up to myself. What do I like? What do I dislike? Those two questions alone can span so much of me, so much of the hidden me, that it makes me tired jus' thinkin' about it! But it is, I think, a very real possibility.
Part of this stems from my reading of Orloff, suggested by a dear friend (thank you!). It's not just about opening up my intuition, but as much about sensing, becoming sensitive to, my own limits and desires. She talks (or is going to talk) about overload and has talked about pace. When I did that particular exercise the other day, I was a bit startled by the rapidity of the result. It was clear and unambiguous. In sensing my own pace, I am in a very real sense connecting with my own needs and desires. If my pace is such that I am capitulating a lot, my own needs and desires are being shunted. I would do well to unlearn that, to learn how to manage my pace in a manner that suits me.
And not forget to not be mean in the process.
- Visit my dad. Invariably this pushes huge ugly buttons that leave me breathless with pain at times.
- Stay up too late. I'm a lot better about this one, but I also know that past 1 or so, I move rapidly toward panic. If I chose a weekend with a safe tail, it would be a good experiment.
- Attend large social gatherings and make myself ask for something. This is impending, so it'll happen regardless.
There's also an intersting "companion" to all this: discovering and AFFIRMING what I like and don't like. I can envision this as being across fields of myself, places where, until now, I've often been reluctant to open up to myself. What do I like? What do I dislike? Those two questions alone can span so much of me, so much of the hidden me, that it makes me tired jus' thinkin' about it! But it is, I think, a very real possibility.
Part of this stems from my reading of Orloff, suggested by a dear friend (thank you!). It's not just about opening up my intuition, but as much about sensing, becoming sensitive to, my own limits and desires. She talks (or is going to talk) about overload and has talked about pace. When I did that particular exercise the other day, I was a bit startled by the rapidity of the result. It was clear and unambiguous. In sensing my own pace, I am in a very real sense connecting with my own needs and desires. If my pace is such that I am capitulating a lot, my own needs and desires are being shunted. I would do well to unlearn that, to learn how to manage my pace in a manner that suits me.
And not forget to not be mean in the process.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Difficult moments and fucked up dreams
It finally got a little nicer weatherwise here. It's odd to see after so many cold gray crappy days.
So I worked outside last night until 7. It was nice to do, to connect that way, to have my own space to do it the way it suited me. Not in any sort of cantankerous fuck you I never liked your way way, but more a finally I can just let go of that past and move ahead way. It was nice. Of course, I got sore. It's my own fault, I know. I haven't been doing the requisite back exercises, and I am under-exercised due both to medical and weather, but still...
A quiet evening alone was the ticket. An hour phone call with a soon-to-be playmate was nice, even thought I was frustrated about the likely need to cancel a planned visit to her. Vehicles can suck at times, Bad cash flow can suck even more!
I turned in late, and didn't even douse lights til almost midnight. I was surprised to then wake up, body hot, at 4:06, and toss and turn a lot. I finally decided after some false stops to shave and then have a little play, which of course cycled on and off - that wonderful tantric-like energy flow - I love that in the morning. THEN, of course, I fell back to sleep.
And those fall back to sleep dreams - they are WEIRD. This was no exception.
I'm at a banquet of some sort. The dining room is long, with a bit of a curve. I am sort of in line to get my food The plates are all individually separated by a cloth napkin and a tarnished silver platter like thingy. I take my plate (the napkins are just there to separate - napkins for eating are at the tables). The first food area is lasagna. There are several types, two primary variants. The main type is more or less conventional lasagna, but is really pretty. IT is cut perfectly clean and square, and looks almost like a plastic mime. The other type they call "British Lasagna" and I have no clue as to what it is. There is a lot less of it, and the pieces are quite small. It is dense looking, dark red, pungent. I take a piece and it sits on my big plate next to the regular beauty pageant lasagna. I move ahead. By the time I get to the next separate table of food - just vegetables and not too many of them - it looks like my beauty lasagna has somehow slipped right off the plate. There's not a trace of it. The British Lasagna is still there, clinging, stuck, to the plate. But no regular. Odd. So I move on, taking some green beans. I can't quite picture what was next, maybe nothing, but I do recall then turing round the last table to the other side and heading back. On my way, I see some poor service worker trying diligently to clean up a HUGE mess on the floor. I say as I pass, with a smile, "That was probably caused by me" thinking it was my missing beauty lasagna. But as I pass her, I realize that no, she is cleaning up a spilled quart of ice cream that had been dropped or fallen and melted on this nice rug. How it got there, melted, in the first place, seems odd to say the least.
I get back to the place I thought I was supposed to sit, a large round table, well, not quite round, but I recall somehow before I got food - you know how you often go and sit down and claim your spot? And I was with someone, I have no idea who. But I recall at that point I got into a bit of tiff with someone who, after I had quite clearly claimed my spot somehow (who knows how? jacket on the back? Turned up glass? Personal effects on seat?) simply took it and stated to sit down. I recall saying quite audibly "That is my seat" and she either ignored me or did not hear, at which point I repeated, VERY loudly "THAT IS MY SEAT". She turned and looked somehow stunned or insulted or maybe both? And proceeded to sit down anyway. It was like I was not there. Hmmm.... So I took the seat next to her. But, at any rate, when I did get back with my food, I realized that that seat too had been taken by someone, and even the person I was with simply looked up and smiled at me and then motioned me over... to where? IT was odd, but I recall thinking, oh no prob, I will go and sit at another table. And then there was this odd internal mental processing going on about how I normally (?) would have decided to go FAR away and pout, sit alone, act hurt, etc., but that this time, somehow, I simply wandered around and looked for a seat. The dream seems to have stopped before I actually sat down, but the last point is the one I am interested in.
Namely: I think I have some sort of fundamental cognitive shift in place. More than once in the past, oh, week, I have recognized that I was in a situation where I *should* have felt one way, *should* have acted one way, but did not. I was even aware several times of almost trying to direct my mind to that dark shitty place of the past... and realized it was like the door was locked, and my mind could not get in. Instead of "poor me" or "s/he won't like me anyway" kind of thinking, I was more "oh well. S/he likes me, it just didn't work out" thinking. It is a very fundamental change for me, one I like, but is a bit disarming.
I think it may be a combination of things.
First: regular SAMe. I think this has helped. IT may finally be at the point where I have a stable level in my body and so it works a little more consistently. One of the odd things that I have recognized about the past week is that I have had all or a combination of "hot buttons" that I know from painful experience have frequently led me to the black hole - over tired, lack of food, etc. But having had these in place and NOT having fallen in...
Second: I have somehow gotten over the toxic parts of my relationship with a lover. I love her deeply, I know, but in the past 6 months it got ricockulous. I was having separation anxiety when we said goodbye, I was taking her "I can't see you tonight"s really hard. I was not liking her other lovers. I recognized it was getting toxic for me. Somehow, I let go. I still love her deeply, and I would still consider a move to where she would go in 6 months to a year (if she goes). BUt now? It is like it is OK to NOT be so glued to her, NOT be so stick that every thing she does or does not do is somehow a reflection of my own failings or limits, or of her somehow deciding that I am not good enough.
I don't know where or how this happened, this cognitive shift, but it seems to be here.
So I worked outside last night until 7. It was nice to do, to connect that way, to have my own space to do it the way it suited me. Not in any sort of cantankerous fuck you I never liked your way way, but more a finally I can just let go of that past and move ahead way. It was nice. Of course, I got sore. It's my own fault, I know. I haven't been doing the requisite back exercises, and I am under-exercised due both to medical and weather, but still...
A quiet evening alone was the ticket. An hour phone call with a soon-to-be playmate was nice, even thought I was frustrated about the likely need to cancel a planned visit to her. Vehicles can suck at times, Bad cash flow can suck even more!
I turned in late, and didn't even douse lights til almost midnight. I was surprised to then wake up, body hot, at 4:06, and toss and turn a lot. I finally decided after some false stops to shave and then have a little play, which of course cycled on and off - that wonderful tantric-like energy flow - I love that in the morning. THEN, of course, I fell back to sleep.
And those fall back to sleep dreams - they are WEIRD. This was no exception.
I'm at a banquet of some sort. The dining room is long, with a bit of a curve. I am sort of in line to get my food The plates are all individually separated by a cloth napkin and a tarnished silver platter like thingy. I take my plate (the napkins are just there to separate - napkins for eating are at the tables). The first food area is lasagna. There are several types, two primary variants. The main type is more or less conventional lasagna, but is really pretty. IT is cut perfectly clean and square, and looks almost like a plastic mime. The other type they call "British Lasagna" and I have no clue as to what it is. There is a lot less of it, and the pieces are quite small. It is dense looking, dark red, pungent. I take a piece and it sits on my big plate next to the regular beauty pageant lasagna. I move ahead. By the time I get to the next separate table of food - just vegetables and not too many of them - it looks like my beauty lasagna has somehow slipped right off the plate. There's not a trace of it. The British Lasagna is still there, clinging, stuck, to the plate. But no regular. Odd. So I move on, taking some green beans. I can't quite picture what was next, maybe nothing, but I do recall then turing round the last table to the other side and heading back. On my way, I see some poor service worker trying diligently to clean up a HUGE mess on the floor. I say as I pass, with a smile, "That was probably caused by me" thinking it was my missing beauty lasagna. But as I pass her, I realize that no, she is cleaning up a spilled quart of ice cream that had been dropped or fallen and melted on this nice rug. How it got there, melted, in the first place, seems odd to say the least.
I get back to the place I thought I was supposed to sit, a large round table, well, not quite round, but I recall somehow before I got food - you know how you often go and sit down and claim your spot? And I was with someone, I have no idea who. But I recall at that point I got into a bit of tiff with someone who, after I had quite clearly claimed my spot somehow (who knows how? jacket on the back? Turned up glass? Personal effects on seat?) simply took it and stated to sit down. I recall saying quite audibly "That is my seat" and she either ignored me or did not hear, at which point I repeated, VERY loudly "THAT IS MY SEAT". She turned and looked somehow stunned or insulted or maybe both? And proceeded to sit down anyway. It was like I was not there. Hmmm.... So I took the seat next to her. But, at any rate, when I did get back with my food, I realized that that seat too had been taken by someone, and even the person I was with simply looked up and smiled at me and then motioned me over... to where? IT was odd, but I recall thinking, oh no prob, I will go and sit at another table. And then there was this odd internal mental processing going on about how I normally (?) would have decided to go FAR away and pout, sit alone, act hurt, etc., but that this time, somehow, I simply wandered around and looked for a seat. The dream seems to have stopped before I actually sat down, but the last point is the one I am interested in.
Namely: I think I have some sort of fundamental cognitive shift in place. More than once in the past, oh, week, I have recognized that I was in a situation where I *should* have felt one way, *should* have acted one way, but did not. I was even aware several times of almost trying to direct my mind to that dark shitty place of the past... and realized it was like the door was locked, and my mind could not get in. Instead of "poor me" or "s/he won't like me anyway" kind of thinking, I was more "oh well. S/he likes me, it just didn't work out" thinking. It is a very fundamental change for me, one I like, but is a bit disarming.
I think it may be a combination of things.
First: regular SAMe. I think this has helped. IT may finally be at the point where I have a stable level in my body and so it works a little more consistently. One of the odd things that I have recognized about the past week is that I have had all or a combination of "hot buttons" that I know from painful experience have frequently led me to the black hole - over tired, lack of food, etc. But having had these in place and NOT having fallen in...
Second: I have somehow gotten over the toxic parts of my relationship with a lover. I love her deeply, I know, but in the past 6 months it got ricockulous. I was having separation anxiety when we said goodbye, I was taking her "I can't see you tonight"s really hard. I was not liking her other lovers. I recognized it was getting toxic for me. Somehow, I let go. I still love her deeply, and I would still consider a move to where she would go in 6 months to a year (if she goes). BUt now? It is like it is OK to NOT be so glued to her, NOT be so stick that every thing she does or does not do is somehow a reflection of my own failings or limits, or of her somehow deciding that I am not good enough.
I don't know where or how this happened, this cognitive shift, but it seems to be here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
